


Grateful

by kasugayamaisforlovers



Category: Titans (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Post-Asylum, after episode 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:48:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21597931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kasugayamaisforlovers/pseuds/kasugayamaisforlovers
Summary: A little missing scene that weaves in between the gang leaving the asylum and certain adults waking up in the morning.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Koriand’r, Dick Grayson/Koriand'r
Comments: 14
Kudos: 116





	Grateful

As soon as the van rolls to a start Dick knows it’s going to be a shitty ride. The adrenaline is starting to fade and the air rushing through the cracked window freezes the sweat to his skin. The roads out here range from gravel to cracked asphalt, and with every rock and jolt Dick feels his stomach rebelling against the cocktail of fuck-me-ups the asylum staff pumped him with.

“Kory—,” he starts, shaking. She takes one look at him and skids to a stop.

“Be quick,” she says checking the mirrors. Her eyes are open too wide. Her hands tremble over the rearview mirror.

“Why are we stopping?” asks Rachel from the backseat.

Dick launches himself out of the van and violently empties the contents of his stomach into the bushes. His face and throat feel like they’re on fire but the rest of him is uncomfortably clammy. His heart is thrumming like he’s just chugged a six pack of energy drinks. _Fuck this._

“Dick?” Kory calls from the across the passenger seat. He vomits again. She starts to unbuckle her seatbelt, but Gar is faster.

“I got it,” he says jumping out of the van. After a long minute it finally seems like Dick’s stomach is empty and the dry heaving is over. Gar helps him back into the minivan. 

*

Back at the safehouse he isn’t doing much better. He feels the fever setting in, robbing his limbs of their strength. There’s a palpable tension in the air. The horrors of the asylum are caked on everyone almost as thick as the very real grime of smoke and blood and sweat. Dick inhales deeply through his nose, trying to steady his vision.

“Rachel,” says Kory calling the girl to her, holding Rachel’s slight shoulders between her two hands. Steadying herself. Scanning the girl with concern and affection.

“I’m ok, Kory.” They exchange a long look. Rachel wraps Kory in a hug.

“Can I get in on that too,” rasps Gar with a shaky smile, his need for comfort apparent in the rigidity of his limbs. Kory opens an arm to him and the three of them embrace. Dick can see Kory’s body soften, like she’s finally releasing a breath she’s been holding. Something in his chest tightens and it has nothing to do with the drugs.

“If either of you run off again, I’ll kill you. And Gar, don’t take my phone again,” reprimands Kory.

“That wasn’t even m-, “ he gulps seeing the green in Kory’s eyes, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too, it was all my fault,” says Rachel voice breaking over the last words.

“Go shower and show Angela her room. I don’t want to see or hear either of you until tomorrow morning,” says Kory shooing the kids. She and Angela nod to one another.

When the kids leave with Angela, Kory turns to Dick looking immensely tired. More than tired. Usually Kory wears her big fur jacket, but now it seems to wear her. She looks small, like the jacket is heavy. Her face looks ashen and her hands—as they twiddle with her long, gold ring—continue to shake like they did in the van.

“You should probably drink something, Grayson, you puked up your body weight back there.”

_Heh._ He starts in on a comeback, but he’s having a hard time keeping his eyes open and his feet underneath him.

“Dick?” her voice echoes out.

The floor buckles underneath him like he’s on a boat. When he opens his eyes, he’s flopped on his side on one of the safehouse beds. Kory is tugging his boots off. He makes a haggard guttural noise to alert her that he’s still alive. She sighs and bobs into his vision. Her hair is so bright against the soft grey and white surroundings of the room. It feels familiar somehow. Comforting. He reaches for it and Kory leans backwards out of his grasp.

“Oh kay,” she says standing up and bringing him a glass of water from the nightstand. “Drink this.” When he struggles to sit up she helps him. She refills his glass, twice. She helps him out of his boots, out of his pants, his shirt, his socks, his boxers. His head is swimming. Memories of his parents and the circus come inexplicably to mind, then memories of Alfred in the kitchen making pie. He floats along grasping for strands of the past only passingly aware of his body.

Only after the showerhead sprays him with warm jets of water does he begin to feel like a semi-functional person again. The lux penthouse style bathroom comes into view. His bones feel like they are made of lead and his stomach is still swirling, but he’s been worse. He watches as the dirt drains off his body and pools around his feet before washing away into the drain.

“I’m ok now,” he says raising his voice so she can hear it from outside the purposely ajar door. And he is. He’s better than he was an hour ago, for sure. He’s thinking mostly clearly again even if thoughts are coming and going like he’s surfing channels.

“Just shower.” She sounds tired, but he doesn’t hear her footsteps, so he’s pretty sure she’s still on the edge of the bed ready to spring into action should he need her. The insinuation, of her still being here in the room with him, flatters and annoys him, but his mind is still to addled to focus on either emotion.

“Kory,” he says dragging the loofa over the bruises on his arms. He feels weirdly outside of himself. He knows that these are his arms, his bruises, but somehow the feelings are disconnected from him, like his mind and body are separated by a gulf that he’s not yet able to bridge. He can’t seem to focus on that either. “You should try to get some sleep,” he says distractedly.

“I’m waiting for you to get out of the shower so I can, alright?” she says from the doorframe. He’s a little embarrassed that it hasn’t even occurred to him that she hasn’t showered yet, and more embarrassed as to why. He turns toward her voice.

“Well I’m done so-” he catches the magenta of her hair just as his vision begins to spot. _Fuck_. The walls tilt again, and he collides, with a thud, against the tiled floor. Just like that the water is off and he feels a terrycloth bathrobe around him, and Kory is lifting him gently to his feet. _Holy shit she’s strong._ She walks him slowly back to the bed.

She looks at him from the bathroom doorframe, scanning him like she scanned Rachel.

“Drink more water, and don’t try to get up.”

Before he can say anything—in appreciation or indignation, and he’s not sure which to go for—the shower hisses back to life.

He lets his body fall backwards onto the bed. The blankets cushioning his head and his neck, and all his aching limbs, and everything feels soft and nice. He knows Rachel and Gar are safe. He knows he’s safe, and before he can appreciate that, he passes out because he’s exhausted. 

*

He startles to consciousness finding Kory thrashing in her sleep, mumbling something incomprehensible. Her skin glows orange in the darkness. It takes him a solid ten-count to lower his heart rate. He feels a rush of relief that nothing’s wrong. Well, not nothing…but that it’s only a nightmare.

“Kory,” he whispers. He notices that he’s tucked under the covers and that she’s wearing his hoodie. A little smile dances to the edges of his mouth. He thought he preferred her in purple. He’s immediately embarrassed by the thought and buries it lest Kory or anyone else should find it. 

She rolls away gasping before the glow subsides and she stills. The room is quiet, other than the soft whir of the central heating. He listens out further into the house, nothing. It’s quiet. _Safe._

“Kory?” he whispers again. He’s not really sure why. He feels like maybe he wants to talk. Not about anything heavy, but just to be assured that this is real. He corrects his irrational impulse and is glad when she doesn’t wake up. She deserves to sleep, especially after what she went through at that place. He takes another breath and moves away from the surge of rage that prickles through him at the thought of finding her strapped to that gurney. He has to take several breathes after that, each one dancing him away from the rush of atrocities, and smells, and trauma that the past 24 hours conjure up in him.

He scoots closer to Kory not quite sure what he’s doing. After several long moments of indecision, he hears her breathing level out and he calms too. He’s almost asleep again when she rolls, face forward, into his chest. She mutters something in a pained exhale and he gingerly pulls her closer. Her heat swells over him like the open door of a hot oven, and it feels...deeply right. He takes another deep breath to untease that thought, and this one pulls the scent of Kory into him. Suddenly his eyelids are heavy and the tension in his body slackens. He’s mesmerized by the subtle rise and fall of her body as she sleeps. “Thank you,” he breathes thinking of all the things she’s done for him, in the last few hours alone. He’s grateful as hell. Grateful like he hasn’t been in a long time. He nuzzles his face in her hair and pretends that he’d been as brave as Gar and gotten in on the hug earlier.

*

He wakes up early, mostly out of habit, but he’s surprised at how well he slept. He sits up to find Kory sleeping and decides to stay in bed a little longer.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :)


End file.
